


Justified Dread

by yersifanel



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yersifanel/pseuds/yersifanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor wants to trust Annalise, he really does… but he can't, not after Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justified Dread

**Author's Note:**

> This is not Beta-ed. English in not my first language; I apologize for the mistakes you may find.
> 
> Also, this damn bunny wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is!

Connor was three steps from break down.

The secrecy, the code talk and paranoia was consuming him. Those who knew the truth, those involved, could easily blame the situation around them; after all, they were trying to get away with murder, but were not very good at it. In the end their only option was Annalise, who said would protect them, but Connor could not trust her, even when he wanted to.

She said it was because it was not in his nature… she was partially right. However, there was more to it than Connor was willing to say.

So he hunched on himself, covering his palms with his sweater and sat down on a couch, lifting his knees against his chest and pretended to read the file he got from the table and actively tried to not think, not move, and not make a sound. By the time they were to leave the house, he was trembling again and took him a great effort to get up and leave the house.

There was a reason why his mind refused to trust Annalise, one he wished could disappear, because trusting Annalise would made things so much easier, wouldn't it? She was their only option and Connor has seen her in action before, she was the best, there was no one else who could protect them. Yet, it was precisely because she was the best, that Connor couldn't trust her.

Those words came back hunting him… _you can't trust her, you are no one to her Connor, no matter what you do or say, she will not help you…_

Connor covered his ears with his hands, as if the ghost like whisper could be blocked with such action _._ It was useless; the voice was not around him, but in his head, in his memory.

"Connor?"

He almost jumped from the sidewalk to the street, turning around like a deer caught in the headlights, his breath hitched and his eyes wide. Laurel was looking at him with concern and Connor wondered how she could keep calm when he was falling apart. 

"You don't make any noise, do you?" he tried to joke, "Y-Your gonna get on someone's bad side one of these days…" She made a face, her lips firmly pressed and her hands closed into fists at her sides. With a couple of steps she was beside him, taking his arm in hers and dragging him along, "H-Hey!"

"You look awful, we're going to Wes', and you are going drink a cup of those things Rebecca insists are _just tea_ and lie down, when was the last time you slept, anyway?"

He made a pitiful attempt to get himself free, but Laurel got a firmer hold of his arm and they continue walking, ahead of them were Wes and Rebecca, Laurel was taking control and Connor, even if he was acting annoyed about, was very grateful with her for that.

He wasn't going to admit it, though. 

* * *

_His eyes were so dark and Connor couldn't understand why, he was so sure the man's eyes were blue, he always saw them blue, but now, with Connor on his back with that man over him, holding his wrist down so hard it hurt and grinding a knee between his legs, Connor could only see black in those eyes._

_"It's for the best… you should not say a word," the voice was deeper than he remembered, it made him even more nervous, "After all, you have too much to lose—"_

_"But I didn't—!"_

_"It doesn't matter Connor, don't you see?" he lowered himself to whisper in his ear, "She can make things happen, no matter what you say, if she wants… you go down."_

_He felt tears burning his eyes, his mind racing with facts, what he had seen, what she had done. He knew it was true and that scared him so much he didn't dare to move, so when he felt those lips against his neck, the protest died in his throat._  

* * *

He woke up with a gasp, heart racing and eyes darting all over the room, he didn't know where he was, and he couldn't make out a single thing about the place. The fear clouded his mind and he felt faint, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe!

"Hey, hey, hey, Connor, calm down, Connor? Connor!"

Hand on his shoulder, another over his legs, he couldn't see, everything was blurry, the voices didn't make sense, he just wanted to leave.

Someone was holding his face.

"Get off!" he screamed, "Get off me, get off me, get off me—!" strong arms held him down and he felt like trashing around, he had to, he just had to, because if not, _that_ was going to happen again.

"Connor!" a male voice and another set of arms holding him.

"Stomp screaming, that's not helping," female this time, "Connor, you're safe, come one, snap out of it."

A hand on his face and his vision finally returned. He was on a bed, his legs tangled in a blanket, with Wes and Rebecca holding him down and Laurel's hands on his face stroking his cheeks, she was looking at him directly in the eyes and was kind enough to not mention the tears running down his cheeks and over her fingers.

"It was a nightmare Connor…" Laurel explained, "We're ok."

He went limp, blinking too fast and finally closing his eyes, "I-I-I'm…"

Rebecca was the first one to let go, only to come back with a box of tissues, "Its fine, it was just a bad dream, should've give you a better one, chamomile is overrated."

Connor couldn't help but laugh, wishing that Rebecca had something stronger that goddamn tea around. 

* * *

  _Oliver just kicked him out and he was not able to do a thing about it. Putting his pants and boots back on in the hallway was thankfully uneventful; at least there was not witness to his shame. He felt awful, because he lied to Oliver, because Paxton was dead and because it was his fault._

_Once in his car, he noticed the keys of his apartment were missing. His first thought was that he left them at Oliver's, but the memory of him leaving them over the coffee table at the House quickly came back to him. He cursed himself and started the car, even if Annalise gave him the coldest treatment he needed his keys to get to his apartment, so there was no other way around it._

_The ride was silent; he was not in the mood for music, or anything for the matter. His mind was racing with the image of Paxton falling down the window, his body on the sidewalk and the feeling of dreed inside him growing. Yes, the guy played him, but he didn't want him to die. Worse of all was that he was used and played and lost Oliver in the process, all because he made a stupid decision that turn out to be a horrible mistake._

_Paxton was dead and Oliver hated him._

_Those were the facts circling in his head the whole ride and when he arrived to the House, he almost didn't notice a light was on. So, at least he wasn't waking anyone up, that's got to count for something._

_He knocked at the door and waited for a few minutes, knocking again, already thinking that this might not work and he would have to get a hotel room for the night or something. Just as he was about to leave, the door was open by Sam Keating._

_"Mr. Walsh?" he asked, "Connor."_

_"Yes sir, sorry to bother you this late but the keys to my apartment are in the living room…"_

_Sam looked at him oddly, steeping aside for Connor to get into the house. The younger man quickly walked into the place, searching the living room and finding the keys just where he thought._

_"Found them," he showed them to Sam, "Please tell Mrs. Keating I'm sorry for coming this late."_

_"She's not here," Sam closed the door, looking it in the process, but Connor thought nothing of it, "Annalise is going to spend the night with that client she just saved, the one with that poor kid jumping out the window."_

_Connor froze where he was, the image of Paxton on the side walk coming back to haunt him and Oliver's words as he kicked him out. He dropped the keys, but the sound was far away so he didn't notice Sam picked them up, noticing how out of it Connor was._

_"I-I-I... sorry, I'm just getting my keys, I'll leave," Sam held out the keys, but Connor's hand were trembling and he had to close them into fists to someone cover it._

_"You look awful, Connor."_

_He blinked several times, wondering when Annalise's husband started to address him by his name, or addressing him at all to star with._

_"I'm just having a bad night," that was true, "Thanks for opening, I'm just going to—"_

_"Come on, you need a drink and I'm awfully bored, follow me," Sam took the keys with him and Connor glared at the man's back, following him to the office, where he took two glasses and an expensive alcohol, serving one for Connor and one for himself._

_The wanted to argue, she shouldn't accept the drink, but he was just so tired and confused that he wanted to word to stop an leave him alone for a moment, so he muttered a thanks and drank one glass while Sam talked about Annalise's kids, Keating Five as she called them. He accepted another drink and a third one while Sam was just happy to serve him another drink, for some reason._

_"Like a team, you know? All of you, working together…"_

_"We are competing against each other while working, it's not even funny," he blurred out while Sam poured another drink in Connor's glass, "Well, sometimes it is funny…"_

_"I think you have the most potential of them all," Sam's words were low and his smile was weird, it was making Connor felt strangely uncomfortable, "You do things other won't in order to win the case, that's dedication."_

_"Thanks…" it was a compliment, but coming from Sam it didn't feel right. The older man was on his feet a moment later, walking around Connor with a drink in his hand and the young student felt a bit dizzy, probably because of the drinks. "Hey, thanks for the drink but… I really should go, Sir… so… my keys?"_

_He didn't wait for an answer, just got up and stepped in front of Sam, holding out his hand to silently ask for his keys. Sam smiled at him, leaving the glass aside, taking Connor's wrist, making the younger man frown._

_"Am I making you uncomfortable?"_

_"No, Sir."_

_"Good," Sam pulled on his wrist, the world turned and Connor was in the man's arms, lips crushing his own, his mind screaming questions and his heart racing._  

* * *

Connor is staring at the floor, something he seems to be doing more often than not lately. Laurel is worried and expressed her feeling being nice and trying to help while Michaela only makes snarky remarks and even tries to make fun of him a couple of times, yet Connor didn't even show signals of noticing.    

"He's getting worse," Wes' words were casual, but there was a hint of well concealed worry there and Michaela only rolls her eyes, making a _'duh'_ motion as she waves a hand at Connor, who only hunches on himself, looking smaller. 

"He's going to get us caught!" Asher is not in the room so Michaela is not being subtle, "This is terrible." 

"Connor?" Laurel asks softly and only then Connor looks up; she gives him a sad smile and places a hand over his forehead, biting her lower lip, "I think you have a fever." 

He blinks slowly, looking at her as if her words made no sense to him, like she were speaking a language he couldn't understand, "Hm fine." 

"No, you're not, shooting star," Frank entering the room is what makes almost all of them jump; he is being trail by Asher, who looked at Connor and tilts his head before point out the obvious. 

"You look like shit, man." 

"Get up Walsh, I'm driving you home," it's not a question and Frank is already taking his arm to get him off the couch and outside the house, straight into his car. Connor feels too tired to protest and when Franks asks for his address he gives Oliver's instead. 

He didn't notice until they arrived. 

* * *

S _am had an arm around his waist and his other hand was firmly holding Connor's head in place. He struggled to get him off, only to end up in the carpet with the man over him._

_"What the hell are you doing?!"_

_There were far too many things wrong with the situation to list them all, but most of them could resume in fact that his boss' husband just kissed him. Wasn't Sam straight? No to mention married with Annalise_ goddamn _Keating._

 _Sam's hand is fisted in Connor's hair and his other hand is pressing his wrist to the carpet, the man has a manic grin on his face and the law student feels afraid, because he knows that look and there is no way he is letting his happen._

_"You are very pretty, aren't you?" Sam is whispering, his nails digging into Connor's wrists, "You go around, parading yourself and trading goods for favors, shouldn't you be used to this by now?"_

_"I'm not a whore!"_

_"Could have fooled me," Sam is pressing his lower body to Connor's and it feels plain wrong, "I'm sure you screwed your way into my wife's star team and I gotta give to you, it was creative."_

_He thinks of Oliver and how he was, is, so much more now… so much more than that._

_"Get off me…!"_

_"Nah, I want to know what it is about you that people get charmed, pretty face and all, there must be something more…" Sam is kissing his neck now and Connor is about to scream when the man lifts his head and then forces it down against the floor, hard, making the younger man see spots. "Roll with it Connor, it's not your first time."_

_"Annalise will not approve," he doesn't care how it sounds, childish or not, he won't let this happen._

_"She won't believe you," he is leaning to whisper in his ear, "But what about my story?… she will listen to me… the story of how you came here and you looked so wrecked I took pity on you, offer to drive you home… but you insisted in staying for a while, even asked for a drink... then you made a pass at me…" Connor was looking at him in disbelieve, "She will believe how you tried to seduce your teacher's husband to get his favor, that sounds more like you, doesn't it?"_

_"No…" Sam let go of his wrist, running his hand down his side, making him shiver, "Please, I don't—"_

_"You should relax and enjoy it..."_  

* * *

Oliver noticed the figure sitting on the floor next to his door just as he was about to leave for work. Knees against his chest, arms around his legs and his face pressed against them, he recognized Connor immediately. 

"I'm sorry…" 

The voice was merely a whisper and he didn't even lift his head to speak. Oliver leaned against the door frame and ran a hand over his hair, thinking fast and making quick decisions. 

"Come on, let's get you inside," Connor was shivering, he looked pale and his eyes were red rimmed, Oliver noticed he was sweating and his collar was already soaking wet. A quick check confirmed his hunch and his mind started to make plans of how to take care of a feverish Connor. 

He called his boss while Connor was in the shower and thankfully she had no problem with him doing Home Office that day. He got Connor into conformable cloths and into his bed, despite the protest of the younger man of not wanting to be a burden. 

There was a part of him that was annoyed with Connor, but another part of him, the part that was worried for the younger man laying on his bed sick, overcame the annoyance very quickly. 

Oliver sat on the bed besides him, watching Connor curl into himself; he ran a hand over Connor's damped hair and sighed, wondering if this had to do with his alleged drug problem. 

"What happened to you, Connor?" 

The younger man stirred, "…I screwed up… and I don't know how to fix it…"

"Is this about the drugs?" he had to ask, but he felt there was more to it than that. 

"I'm not doing drugs…" Oliver didn’t say a thing and Connor didn’t dare to look up, "I'm sorry Ollie…I'm so sorry…" 

"I know."  Connor felt asleep with Oliver running his fingers across his hair and the silence of doubt around them. 

* * *

_Sam had him on the floor, on his stomach with his face pressed against the carpet. Connor feels disgusted; with the man, with himself, with the world._

_This is not the first time Sam fucks another man, but it's been a while, Connor can tell by the rough way he's manhandling him and how he expects for Connor to fucking relax already. It hurts and he just wants for Sam to come already and leave him alone._

_Connor hates him, because Sam not only is forcing him to have sex with him, but he's degrading him with each word, each touch, and each breath._

_"You like sex," he tells him as he tears apart his insides with his minimal care, "You use sex to get everything, this is no difference, well, only a bit, this time you're not getting anything but my good grace."_

_"You're wrong…" he whispers against the carpet, "You're wrong…"_

_He forces him on his knees, his thrust hard and fast, uncaring for the one his getting pleasure of. Connor feels the vile on his throat and forces it down, telling himself that this is not import so he shouldn't care, this is just sex and when it's over he's going to leave and forget it ever happened._

_Sam is touching his cock and Connor wants to kill him for it._  

* * *

Oliver is smart, so connecting the dots is not hard once he actually sits down and sets his mind into the task. Connor is not walking mystery, but a walking clue all by himself; the law student is constantly twitching and darting his eyes around, making it plain he is hiding something. 

He recognizes the name in the news, Connor mentioned him once or twice, expression his dislike for the man every time. He already admitted he is not doing drugs, Oliver was kind of relived for that but the feeling was not enough to overcome the worry. Connor was into something far worse than a drug problem and Oliver had the feeling he knew what it was. 

Connor stirs when he's watching the news in his laptop, he slept the whole morning and Oliver stayed by his side, working and occasionally getting up. Now he younger man was wide awake, but he was not moving, his eyes fixed in Oliver's pants, not looking up. 

"You know about Sam Keating's murder, don't you?" 

Connor is silent for a long moment, "They got a suspect…" 

"Yes, that was in the news." 

The younger man is shaking and Oliver leave the computer aside just in time, Connor's entire frame shock with a sob and his pulling at his hair, grinding his teeth so hard it had to hurt. 

"I didn't kill him," his falling apart and Oliver is upset that Connor had something to do with that murder, but he is far more worried for him, "I didn't… we… he was trying to kill this girl…. And Wes acted fast… it all happened _so_ fast…!" 

Oliver couldn't help himself, he gather Connor into his arms and held him close and the younger man trembled, muttering words about being scare and getting rid of the body and how much se screw up, so badly. 

"Connor, Connor… hey, breath Connor," he is holding his face now and Connor is between this place and time and another completely different, Oliver is forcing himself to remain calm, even if he is losing it inside.  

"I hate him," he finally says, tears running down his face, "I hate him so much… so, _so_ , much… I'm glad he's dead… I fucking hate him…" 

Oliver is taking by surprise as Connor let out those words, because the younger man has never expressed feelings this deep. He is unusually charming, easy to talk with and Oliver loves to see him smile. Now Connor is falling apart in his arms and Oliver has no idea what to say. 

"Connor…" 

"He was a murderer," his words are heavy and Oliver notices Connor is hyperventilating again, "He was a rapist and a murderer… I hate him… and I'm glad he's dead." 

A dreadful feeling nests in Oliver's chest after those words and he is holding Connor close again, telling him he has to breathe and calm down, the student is a wrecked mess right now and he's afraid for him. 

Oliver is smart, so he connects the dots… and feels like he might hate Sam Keating too. 

* * *

_He feels disgusting._

_Sam leaves him on the floor while he rearranged his clothes and tosses the keys back to him; the man is smiling and Connor just wants to punch that smirk off his face. He pushes himself into a sitting position and glares at him with a constant simmer hate._

_"Don't get any ideas Connor…" he is looking down, and for some reason it is making Connor feel so small, "You can't trust her, you are no one Connor, no matter what you do or say, she will not help you…"_

_He covers his mouth whit his hand, lowering his gaze. Sam is right, isn't he? Annalise would never help him, she would never believe him over her husband, she can even turn all the blame on him if necessary, just like Sam told him while he was fucking him._

_He couldn't trust Annalise._

_"I won't say anything…" what else could he do? He was angry and disgusted, but he was also afraid._

_"There's a good boy."_

_When he finally got home threw up until his throat was sore and his head hurt too much. He took a very long shower, just sitting there under the spray until the water was cold, reliving the moment in his head._

_He hated himself for letting happen, but he hated Sam even more for being the cause._  

* * *

"You should tell her." 

Oliver is being reasonable, as much reasonable as someone could be after having a stress episode in the shower over the fact that his not-boyfriend is not only part of a murder, but the murder of a man who also raped him.     

Yes, he deserved a medal or something, but he would be happy enough with seeing Connor not in jail and back to his regular self, preferably with him by his side. 

"I can't, it won't do any good," Connor's fever broke during the night, but he was not looking any better, "She… she is protecting us, she said she would… but…." 

"But you can't believe her, because he told you that it won't do any good," Oliver didn't know he could be this angry with a man that he didn't know and was dead now, "Connor, he was manipulating you." 

Connor looks close to tears, but the news interrupt him, showing how Nate Lahey is begin taken into custody as suspect of Sam's murder. He stares at TV, a broken sound fills the room and is not until Oliver is holding him that he realizes the broken noises came from him. 

* * *

_He lays on the floor, looking into Sam's dead eyes and feels no joy._

_The man is dead, he hates him still, but he can't feel anything, not when the fear of getting caught is greater than the relief of seeing that monster dead. Still, his emotions overlap and he is laughing while crying, so desperate and calm at the same time he think he's going insane._

_In the goods he sees not the body of the man he is helping to dispose of, but the corpse of a man who humiliated him for no reason other than he could. So when he takes the crowbar in hand and stats smashing the body to pieces is not because he feels guilty or afraid, but because he can't believe Sam is dead._

_He didn’t suffer enough; he is never going to pay for what he did and Connor knows that._

_"Hey guys, I think I just detached the tibia!"_

_Another crack and Connor feels his hate simmering again, Sam Keating is dead, goen, never to return._

_His rapist is dead._  

* * *

"Mr. Walsh, my office," Annalise didn't even look at them upon entering the House, Connor was reading some papers and everyone looked at him wondering what he did this time, "Now, Mr. Walsh." 

She closed the doors and placed a laptop over the desk, attaching an external storage device in to while Connor sat down staring at the floor. 

"I knew you were scared," she pointed out, leaning over the desk as the computer started to display a few images of the house, they were unfocused at first and the quality was not very good, "And I knew it was not in your nature to trust… but now… now I know why you were so scare of me… not the situation, not the police… but me." 

Connor is staring at the screen, at his own self half naked on the floor, tears staining his cheeks and hate showing in his face, he barely remembers Sam taking the pictures and when she plays the video, he feels sick. 

Sam is talking, he is saying how this is his fault and no one would believe him otherwise. In the video, Connor is covering his face with his hands and muttering a litany of _you're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong_. Sam is turning him on his stomach and tosses the cell phone aside, stopping recording when it hits the floor. 

Annalise closes the laptop and is quickly in front of him, her hand cupping his face. She is talking to him but Connor cannot hear her, all he hears is Sam's voice and his own ragged breath, the sound of broken bones and the smell of burning flesh and smoke, there is white noise in his head and Annalise desperate attempts to calm him down…then everything goes black. 

* * *

He wakes up to an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar room, the place is dark and there are whispers outside. He is about to move when he notices someone is holding his hand. 

"Hey…" 

Oliver is besides him, sitting on the bed of the room that slowly seems more familiar, this is Annalise's room. "They told me what happened, I called you phone more times than I can count when you didn’t arrive." 

"I…" 

"It's ok," Oliver assures him, "Want to go back home with me?" 

Home, yes… Home is with Oliver. 

He gets downstairs with Oliver's help, Laurel feels visible relived of seeing him awake and Michaela exhales deeply as well. Wes is looking at him oddly but nods his way and Connor wants to tell them to stop looking at him. 

"Mr. Walsh…" Annalise looks tired, "We will talk later… just keep in mind, you are not at fault." 

The words at not direct but it's not code either. Connor nods, leaving the house as the noise in his head quiets down and Oliver's hold of his hands tightens. 

He is not fine, but Oliver is here and Annalise is not going to turn her back on him. 

Maybe he would live to see another day, after all. 


End file.
